Cloaks of Red and Grey
by yozza
Summary: AU. House Redcloak has been a vassal to the Stark's for centuries. With the death of Jon Arryn, the realm is thrown into chaos. Can Beric Redcloak and his surviving kin prevent what fate has written for the Stark's? Or are they doomed to follow them to ruin? Warning:Contains spoilers. Adopted by Aldon
1. Adam I

**AN**

 **I'm afraid I'm going to have to bore you with some details on characters ages before we start.**

 **Beric Redcloak= 32**

 **Maric Redcloak= 25**

 **Domeric Redcloak=24**

 **Robb, Jon, Adam Redcloak= 17**

 **Joffrey=15**

 **Sansa=14**

 **Myrcella=13**

 **Arya=12**

 **Bran, Torrehn, Tommen= 10**

 **Robert Arryn= 8**

 **Rickon= 6**

 **All others are the same as they are in the book.**

 **Disclaimer: The overall plot line, characters (excluding my O/C's- Redcloaks and Greycloaks) and setting belong to George R.R. Martin.**

 **Other notes: at the end of this work there will be an epilogue explaining the story behind my two new houses including sigil's, words, holdings, current family and history.**

* * *

Adam

A cold bitter wind blew through the yard of the ancient fortress of Winterfell that served as the seat for House Stark. The dark hair of a young boy, only shortly past his seven and tenth name-day, was ruffed as some of the longer parts were blown across his face. The boy was Adam Redcloak, third-born son of Rodrik Redcloak.

Adam was, typically speaking a charming and charismatic youth. As a child he had loved playing games with the Stark children in the Godswood and had helped Robb and Jon play a joke in their youth on Sansa and Arya in the crypts that ran beneath the castle. The twins had been there too, of course, but were so young they couldn't remember it. They had heard about it plenty though. Sansa complained about it enough, and still loved to drag it up and berate the trio fairly often, even nearly nine years later.

Despite his fondness of such times, he was often too shy to ask to be included; especially after the arrival of one Theon Greyjoy; and it often took Robb physically dragging him into the games to get him involved. He had come out of his shell in recent years, and become more outgoing. He was quick to grin and joke, but unlike Theon he actually knew how to stop before he went too far. He had a dangerous and violent temper, but like most of his blood he knew how to control it, for the most part, and if he ever lost it then he had Robb, who knew exactly how and when to reel him in.

Nearly the whole Stark family was out in the training yard on that particular morning. Robb Stark, the heir to the North, stood tall and proud. Robb was a tall, lean man with dark red-brown curls and clear, deep blue eyes that came from his Tully mother. But while he looked much more like Lady Stark, no one could argue that his just, honest and honorable attitude and personality was anything but Stark. When he spoke people listened. The boy had a lords voice, and he had been taught how to use it. Robb was Adam's best friend growing up, and they thought of each other as brothers.

Jon stood next to Robb, a few paces to the left. He was very similar to Robb in terms of his character and build. His looks however, he took after his father Lord Stark. It irked Lady Catelyn to no end that the bastard of Winterfell looked more like a Stark than her own son's did. The only difference between Lord Eddard and Jon, age aside, was the grey eyes that Jon lacked. He had instead gained dark eyes that seemed so similar to a Redcloaks. But that was no matter of concern, as there had been a Redcloak woman married into the Stark family a few generations ago. Jon was just as close with Robb as Adam, and as a result the pair had become equally good friends with each other.

One of the twins, often presumed to be the eldest, Bran, was stood with a bow in hand and an arrow notched, valiantly trying to hit the target. Bran had the Starks grey eyes, but his hair was an auburn colour. His twin Torrehn was the opposite with dark hair, and blue eyes. But they were cold and despite their darker shade, they seemed like ice.

Sitting on a barrel to the side was the youngest Rickon who, like Robb, had taken after their mother entirely.

The girls were not there. Sansa, a young maid of great beauty with bright red hair was in her embroidering or music lessons with her friends Beth Cassel, Jeyne Poole and the other girls from nearby families. Arya, who was the only one of Lord Stark's true born children to look like him and not their mother, had probably escaped already. Adam did not get on well with Sansa, but he and Arya were good friends. He had been secretly teaching her the basic's of sword fighting.

Lord and Lady Stark, along with Adam's older cousin Beric, were stood on the walkway behind the group.

"Relax your bow arm," Robb chided gently. Bran loosed another arrow, this time sending it flying over the wall. Robb, Jon, Rickon and Torrehn howled with laughter, until Lord Stark silenced them with "Which of you was a marksman at 10?"

The yard remained quiet for a moment. Then Adam strode over until he stopped beside Bran and crouched down next to the boy. He may not be a marksman, even now, but he wasn't bad. Adam was physically weaker and smaller, in both build and height, than most men his age due to a problem in his birth according to Beric and Lord Stark. It was only recently that he acquired the strength to lift a long sword. As a result, he had spent his earlier life training to become an expert with weapons that he could use: spears, one handed axe's and daggers. He could now use longswords, bastard swords, and shortbows but greatswords and longbows were still beyond him. Regardless, he could still aid Bran.

"You're over-thinking it," he said "Like Robb said, you need to relax, but not too much. Your problem is that you're focusing too much on yourself. Just don't think about anything other than where you want that arrow to go."

Nodding, Bran picked up the bow and notched an arrow. An arrow flew and hit dead center. But the arrow wasn't Bran's. They all turned as Arya curtseyed to them and promptly dropped her bow and ran, when Bran started to chase after her with Torrehn quickly joining in. Rickon, Jon and Robb set to work on collecting arrows.

Adam normally helped, but they had both heard Ser Rodrik speak after he had approached Lord Stark with Theon.

"My Lord,our riders came across a deserter from the Nights Watch on our lands. They await you," the gruff old knight spoke.

"Oh must you, Ned?" Lady Stark asked, causing Adam to bitterly think _'Seventeen years and you still don't know our ways'_.

"You know the law, Cat," Stark spoke, before turning back to Rodrik "Prepare the horses. You, Hullen, Theon, some guards, Robb, Jon, Adam and Beric. And tell Bran and Tor that they're going too,"

"Ned!" Catelyn exclaimed in outrage "They're only boys. Must they see such things?"

"My Lady, Edd was only a little older on the Trident," Beric said softly, ending the conversation. Edd being the eldest of Adam's brothers, who had died on the spear of Lewyn Martell in Robert's Rebelion whilst squiring for Lord Stark. His other brother was Domeric Redcloak and it was the thought of him, the fear for him, that had momentarliy frozen Adam when Ser Rodrik had first spoken.

Domeric had been sent to the wall after the failed Greyjoy rebellion. Their father, Eorik, had been killed on Pyke by Victarion Greyjoy. So when Lord Stark had brought the nephew of the man who killed his father back to Winterfell as a hostage who was to be treated; as ordered by Lord Stark; as a member of his family, Domeric had gone mad. He had tried to kill Theon Greyjoy, been stopped by Jory and Ser Rodrik, and for the crime he had been sent to the wall. Adam had never forgiven him for taking such a reckless action of revenge and getting exiled when Adam had needed him most. He did his best to hate him.

Yet every time a deserter was found, Adam was afraid that it would be Domeric.

Lord Eddard Stark said the words and swung the sword. The rangers head rolled off his shoulders. Gared his name had been, and a true night's watch man, always holding true to his vow's. And Adam Redcloak felt nothing but relief that he was dead.

Adam wasn't malicious. He took no joy in watching the execution, as Theon Greyjoy did, who was laughing as he booted the head. He remembered the moments before Ser Rodrik told them of the Night's Watch deserter

So when the man turned out to be Gared, Adam was glad. Or more accurately, glad it wasn't Dom.

He looked at the others. Beric stood loyally by Eddard's side, as was his place as the Sword of the Wolf. Eddard Stark stood as still as a stone until he handed Ice back to Greyjoy. Robb and Jon looked on solemnly. Bran was holding his fear back, keeping his face expressionless. Rodrik and Jory Cassel, and the other guardsmen were much the same. Only Theon was having an even remotely good time. Torrehn's reaction was concerning though. He had curiously tilted his head to one side slightly, and allowed a small almost unnoticeable smile to show on his lips.

Two years ago, Robb had gone on a tour of many houses in the north, to get to know his future bannermen, taking Jon, Adam, Bran and Torrehn with him. The Glover's, Tallhart's and Cerwyn's greeted them warmly, as did the Forrester's of Ironrath where Adam struck up a friendship with Rodrik Forrester. The three older boys were gifted with great destrier's, bred specifically for war (A red for Robb, white for Jon and black for Adam) with the younger boys receiving their own younger mounts. And while Lady Dustin was not all that fond of the Stark's, Howland Reed was delighted to be visited by the children of his old friend. They saw the ruins of Moat Cailin, the gleaming, white city of White Harbour where they met the jovial Wyman Manderly, whom Bran instantly liked. Like their father before them they had never feasted as well as they did in the mountains. Lord Umber held a small tourney open to only his own vassal's and the five guest's. Karstark introduced them to his sons and daughter. Lady Alys seemed fond of Jon, while Eddard and Torrehn got on well with Robb. The Mormont's, Flint's, Locke's, and Hornwood's all received them well. Each Lord proud and honored that they had been trusted enough to host four of their liege's son's, and the Redcloak heir.

The Dreadfort was different. Roose Bolton was not rude, and he fed them well. But the place unnerved them. His gaze unsettled them. All except Torrehn. He had found it enthralling and fell in love with the dark castle. He pestered Bolton for information about the history of both family and seat, and requested that Domeric; Bolton's heir; show them the room beneath the keep where the Bolton's had flayed their enemies. When they returned to Winterfell, Tor had asked his father if he could foster at the Dreadfort. Not expecting anything to come of it, Stark had written and Bolton had replied with acceptance.

So, the past two years, Torrehn had warded with Roose Bolton. It showed in the boy's actions and words.

Adam was so lost in his thoughts that time seemed to disappear. Before long he heard Jon Snow shout to his father. He said that he and Robb had found something in the woods. Lord Stark urged the guards onward, only to find that 'something' was in fact a dead direwolf and eight small pups.

"It's an abomination!" Theon exclaimed.

"No, it's a direwolf," Robb said quietly. He and Jon had dismounted and stood over the dead wolf. The others dismounted quickly and Theon, Bran and Lord Eddard moved closer to the wolves.

"There are no direwolves south of the wall," Theon remarked.

"No. There are eight," Robb shot back.

Adam stood next to Jon. They had always shared a close bond, save perhaps for Jon and Arya or Adam and Robb, they were the closest out of all the friendships in Winterfell. They had shared the experience of feeling unwanted. Adam watched the wolf pups with fascination.

"It's a bad omen, my Lord," Hullen told them. Several others gave their thoughts and opinions

"They won't survive long without their mother. Best kill them quickly. It'll be a mercy," Jory said. Ned Stark nodded his agreement

Theon drew his dagger and approached Bran, trying to take the wolf from him, "Give it here, little Lord."

"No," Bran cried clutching the small wolf.

"Put away your blade," Robb said angrily.

"I don't have to answer to you,"

"Father please, don't let him," Bran begged

"I'm sorry Bran. It has to be done," Ned said solemnly.

Adam wanted to say something, but couldn't. He knew Lord Stark was making a mistake but his voice had deserted him, much as Gared had deserted the watch. Jon seemed to notice something, however.

"Lord Stark. The grey direwolf is the sigil of your house. There are six grey pups here, one for each of your children, and two others for the Redcloaks. The direwolf is their sigil too, black on red," he said "Perhaps we were meant to find these wolves."

That was when Adam realized that Jon had omitted himself from the count.

"None for yourself Jon?" Ned asked

"I'm no Stark,"Jon replied

"So be it. You will be responsible for them, you will train them, you will feed them and if they die, you will bury them," Lord Stark said

"They won't die. We won't let them," Robb said

And as such the winterfell guard mounted their horses once more. Robb chose a pup for himself and one for Rickon. Theon collected Sansa and Arya's new pups. Beric and Adam chose theirs and Bran kept hold of his. Torrehn had insisted on also carrying his own, the one who seemed to be the outsider of the group. The other wolves seemed to growl a lot in the presence of Tor's new companion, as though they didn't trust their litter mate for some reason.

As they were riding off, they heard a sound which Jon leapt of his horse to investigate. They found, much to their surprise, that it was a red eyed, white furred wolf.

"The runt of the litter!" Theon exclaimed "That one will die even faster than others."

"I think not," Jon replied coolly "This ones mine."

Adam couldn't help but smile. He had had his doubts about the Stark children being meant to find the wolves if there wasn't one for Jon. But now he knew Jon was right.

"You were right, Snow. There was a wolf for each of you Stark's," he heard himself saying.

He was fairly certain Jon glared at his back as he rode on.

* * *

So, I'm basically rewriting this whole story with some added story arc's (Torrehn Stark being born and Domeric Bolton surviving). I'm also improving the grammar, spelling and overall writing of the early chapters.

Yozza Out!


	2. Beric I

**AN**

 **Thank you so much to those who have followed/favourited/reviewed this story. I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it.**

 **thebearstew: Actually the original version of this story was posted Christmas before last (or there about). I hadn't actually seen your story until you mentioned it, and I have enjoyed what you've done so far. The 'Sword of the Wolf' is most likely just a coincidence.**

 **Guest: Torrehn will get a wolf. See previous chapter; I realized I'd missed a few necessary corrections and fixed them. Please point anymore error's out to me. I'm re-doing a couple of chapters a night (unless I work of my other fic) and will most likely miss somethings.**

 **Guest: I hope you're not disappointed with what I've come up with for House Redcloak-both future and past.**

 **gsaint413: Thank you, I hope you continue to enjoy the rest.**

 **Disclaimer: The overall plot line, characters (excluding my O/C's- Redcloaks and Greycloaks) and setting belong to George R.R. Martin.**

* * *

Beric

"I'm so sorry my love. Jon Arryn is dead"

Beric sat up with a start, gasping for air and soaked in sweat. He had a strong sense of dread as he woke up from his nightmare. _Jon Arryn is dead_ , for some reason he knew that those words would haunt him for years to come. Jon Arryn had been a friend of Beric's, and a mentor. He had fought beside him at Pyke during the Greyjoy rebellion, and on the Trident in Roberts. Hearing that he was suddenly dead wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. Still, as much as the death of the elderly Lord of the Vale grieved him, Beric knew that it was much more painful for Ned. Jon had been a second father to Ned, and during the war had become the quiet Northern man's good-brother after their marriages to the Tully sister's, Catelyn and Lysa.

He had been in the godswood with Ned. Ned always retreated to his seat beneath the Heart Tree and cleaned Ice meticulously after every execution. Beric often joined him and made sure his valyrian steel broadsword, Wolf Sworn, was in good condition. The Sword of the Wolf had been about to voice his concerns for his young cousin, Adam, for the first time ever, when Catelyn Tully had approached. At first he had wanted to curse her. This was about his family, and a Tully of all people should understand that. But when she had told them of the late Lord Arryn's sudden death, his problems were no longer important. He was suddenly very empty, void of all emotions until the grief had surfaced that night. That was all it was grief.

But yet, Beric couldn't help but feel as if there was something more. Something he was missing. When they had told him that his father was dead at the start of Roberts Rebellion, he felt pained and wanted nothing more than revenge. But he had never suffered so much as he was now. The nightmare's he'd suffered as a boy of five-and-ten were of his father being butchered by Aerys kingsguard, or burned alive like Uncle Rickard, or tortured like Brandon. Not the words themselves.' _Why?'_ he wondered. ' _Why am I plagued by the words "Jon Arryn is dead" but not "your father is dead"?'_ Every night he had been awoken by the memory of the words that were carved into his mind only a few short days ago.

He was shaken from his thoughts by movement on the end of his bed. Instinctively, he reached for his dagger, kept on the small table by his bedside. But then his wolf lifted it's head and looked at him. Beric instantly relaxed. The wolf was a comfort. One he was glad to have. Beric had decided to name his Shadow, earlier a rather fitting name, as the wolf was as black as the wolf on the Redcloak sigil. It moved a deal more quietly than the other wolves and rarely growled or howled, not because it couldn't like Jon's, but simply out of preference.

His thought's turned to the other wolves. He was amazed by how fast they had grown. Only a few weeks old and already they had grown a great deal. Like himself, most of the Stark children had all named their wolves appropriately. Jon had named his silent, albino, red-eyed wolf Ghost. Robb's was the fastest of the group. Grey like most of it's pack, it looked simply like a grey blur when it ran. Aptly named Grey-Wind. Arya had, of course, named hers after her favorite historical figure the female warrior Nymeria, and Sansa's was called Lady.

The exception's to naming properly came from Rickon, who had named him Shaggydog. Hardly a fitting name for a direwolf, but he was only six, so who was Beric to judge him for it. Bran was yet to name his.

Torrehn's direwolf had been granted the name Winter. He seemed to take some sort of amusement from the mocking he was able to give his house's words with that name. "Winter is coming" is what he said whenever he saw or heard his direwolf approaching on the rare occasion's that the beast wasn't by his side, a smirk on his face all the while. The other wolves did not trust Winter. For whatever reason, they growled and snapped and whined in his presence, even polite Lady. Beric had already noticed that the wolves seemed to take after their master's personality. He was scared of what it would mean for Torrehn, scared that their wolves were trying to warn them of something untrustworthy in Winter, and therefore Tor also.

Finally, Adam had named his wolf Vex. This particular wolf, while just as strong and brave as his kin, was the most playful of them. He had a habit of annoying the other wolves a fair deal, much like the mask Adam himself wore when he wasn't killing himself with rigorous training. Adam worked himself too hard. Pushing himself on with sword work for hours after everyone else had stopped. One day it would become too much, and he would hurt either himself or someone else. Beric had tried to warn him of this but he wouldn't listen. Hopefully he'd be more sociable during the King's Visit.

And no matter what people said, it was a mask Beric knew. Yes, Adam had been more social and happy these last few years, but Beric saw how fragile that progress was. He saw how before every action, Adam would glance in Robb's direction, seeking permission and then again afterwards looking for approval. Adam was still the same unsure boy he was four years ago. He just hid it better.

Suddenly, he remembered that he would have a large role tomorrow (or later that day, he wasn't sure if it had reached midnight yet)The king would arrive with a rather large party and Beric needed to make sure that none of them posed a threat to Lord Stark or his family. That was the duty of the Sword of the Wolf. He lay back down, and drifted back into a fitful sleep a few minutes later.

Unfortunately, morning came all too soon, and it wasn't long before he found himself walking beside Lady Catleyn and Maester Luwin discussing the need for wine and food as King Robert was said to be one of the best drinkers in the realm, and that they would need even more wine; as well as candles and books; for Tyrion Lannister. They just needed Thoros of Myr and they'd have all three of the greatest drinkers of King's Landing. Shadow lurked in the shadows beside them, sniffing ahead. They passed under a large arch-way, on the way towards the court yard and found themselves passing an as yet unnamed direwolf.

"Gods they grow so fast," Catelyn complained.

They continued walking, but then they heard movement behind them. They all whipped round, and Beric's hand went the hilt of his valyrian steel broadsword, Wolf-Sworn. He let his arm drop to his side and let out a small laugh as he realized it was only Bran Stark, climbing down from a tower. Beric knew for a fact that Bran knew every nook and foothold in every wall in Winterfell. Adam had taken to naming him Brandon the Climber. It had stuck and now there were a few people who called him that, Beric included.

Beric could see that Catelyn was furious that Bran had been climbing again. But he beat her to it.

"My Lord, how many times now has your mother told you to stop climbing? A few hundred at least I'd wager," he said, in as close to a disapproving voice as he could manage without roaring with laughter

"Beric, the King's here! I could see him from the tower. There were so many of them. And I saw the kingsguard too!"Bran yelled down excitedly.

As he landed on the floor, Catleyn took her chance, before Beric could take it, as he had been planning too. "Bran, I want you to promise me. No more climbing."

Bran looked down at the ground, before looking up again and responding with "I promise."

"You know what?" Cat asked. Bran shook his head in reply. "You always look at your feet when you lie."

Bran smiled at that. Beric laughed at that. He couldn't contain it any longer. But he managed to say "So the King's here is he? I suppose we best go and greet him,"


	3. Robb I

**AN**

 **Thank you so much to those who have followed/favourited/reviewed this story. I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it.**

 **Guest: Your question's will be answered in the story in a few chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: The overall plot line, characters (excluding my O/C's- Redcloaks and Greycloaks) and setting belong to George R.R. Martin.**

* * *

Robb

The entire Stark family was stood lined up in the courtyard of Winterfell, with the other inhabitants of the castle behind them. Maids were rushing about the keep setting things up for their guest's and the feast that night. Guards stood by the gate and along the walls, diligently guarding their posts.

Ned Stark, Robb's father, stood straight a fur cloak around his shoulders and his best clothes beneath it. Robb's mother stood next to him on his left followed by Rickon, who was fidgeting in place, seemingly bored with the waiting around. Robb himself stood to his father's right. On Robbs own right, was his sister Sansa; looking flushed at the thought of meeting the Prince and getting a betrothal; and then the twins, with Bran excited about seeing the King and the knights from the south and Torrehn seemingly indifferent. Beric and Adam stood on the end of the line, side by side. Beric had his Valyrian steel broadsword , Wolf Sworn, strapped into its sheath along his back. Jon and Theon were standing in the row behind, which Robb thought was unfair. The two were practically Starks anyway.

Although, Robb thought, Adam doesn't seem to like Theon much. Despite Robb's best efforts Adam often reverted back into either his impulsive and reckless rage induced side, or his shy, self conscious one whenever Theon was around. Theon would not stop picking on Adam regardless of Robb's request for him to do so.

Just then, shortly before two riders passed under the gateway one bearing a banner for the House of Lannister, and the other the Baratheon sigil; Arya ran up to the group wearing a guards helm, which their father stopped her long enough to remove before ushering her into place. The sight had most of the gathered people laughing a little with a few exceptions; their father only smiled slightly, his way of showing amusement, Torrehn just raised an eyebrow and Lady Catelyn, Sansa and Septa Mordane glared. Arya ran to her place between Bran and Sansa, pushing the twins as she went with a sharp "Move". Bran simply shuffled to the side a little. Torrehn though glared at her maliciously. Though a quick glance in his father's direction had him turning to face front again, grinding his teeth.

Robb shared a worried glance with Adam, and each vowed to try and talk to Torrehn. Their silent conversation was cut short by the entry of the Kings party.

Robb was awed as he watched King Roberts entourage enter Winterfell. He saw the king, who he barely recognized, save for the black hair and blue eyes that could only belong a Baratheon. Robb guessed that this was the King, as the man was too old to be Renly, and Stannis would never have ridden all the way north, especially not in the company of Robert. But the man wasn't how Robb had imagined him to be. This man was fat and boisterous, not the warrior his father had described him to be. But then, maybe nearly two decades years of kingship in a loveless marriage (as half the realm knew it was) could that to a man.

Robb turned his attention to the rest of the column. He saw the kingsguard, in their shining white armour, riding alongside the king. Arys Oakheart, currently the youngest member Roberts kingsguard, though in Robb's opinion, perhaps one of the best knights among them, aside from Barristan Selmy, who was not present. He saw the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister in his golden armour, the only member not to wear white. There was Boros Blount, a coward by all acounts and Meryn Trant, an old man. Then came Preston Greenfield and Mandon Moore. Of all of them, Ser Arys was the finest knight. The kingslayer may be the better swordsman but how can you be a fine knight when you murdered the last king you served. Beric was adamant that one could not trust Jaime Lannister for anything more than a sword in the back and though his father never said anything on the subject, Robb could tell that the Lord of Winterfell agreed with his bodyguard.

Shifting his gaze away from the 'fine' knights, he saw the crown prince Joffrey Baratheon. Straight from the start, Robb disliked him. He looked so arrogant and haughty, as though he were already King. Behind him, Robb watched as his sworn shield, Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane rode in, with his hounds helm donned. Clegane was a huge man, towering a head and a half over every one else in the area, though the Hound was still a fair bit shorter than his older brother the Mountain-that-Rides. The Hound had a huge greatsword slung over his back, and his black armour was decorated with spikes around the gauntlets.

Behind the Hound followed even more people. A large wheelhouse slowly rolled in, coloured in red and gold, likely holding the queen, her daughter and her younger son. There was the Kings squires, two boys who were obviously Lannisters from some branch of the family, a contingent of guards, mostly Lannisters with a small minority of Baratheon men mixed in with them.

The shock came when a tall, lean man with receding, graying hair and eyes that reminded Robb of small chips of ice, rode in. The man was clad in warm clothing, as was most of the party, but his was simple furs and traveling leathers emblazoned with a pink sigil in the middle of his chest. The same sigil in the form of a silver clasp was on his cloak. Beside the man was someone of similar appearance. Though his eyes were the same, his were warmer and kinder. The man was a few years older than Robb, maybe around Theon's age and his dark hair was neat and trimmed. Following these men were a dozen gruff looking northmen, each one carrying either an axe or a sword and , in one case, both.

Roose and Domeric Bolton had arrived at Winterfell.

By this point the King had dismounted and was walking towards them. The people of Winterfell all dropped respectfully to one knee. The King walked right up to Robb's father and looked at him for a moment, before gesturing for the Stark family to stand, and shortly after the rest of the people. Then the King stared at his oldest friend once more.

"You've gotten fat," the huge man said eventually

Ned Stark simply nodded in the general direction of Roberts round stomach in response, his face stoic. Everyone held their breath, hoping that the King would not see it as an insult. Then they both laughed, and Robert pulled Ned into a bone crushing hug.

"Ned!" he said jovially "thirteen years. Where the hell have you been?"

"Holding the North. Winterfell in yours, your grace,"

Still smiling, the king moved to Ned's left and greeted Robb's mother with a delighted cry of "Cat!", and then ruffled Rickon's hair. Before long, Robb and Robert were face to face. The shook hands and the strength behind Roberts grip was astonishing. Just from that handshake, Robb could tell that despite his size, Robert had lost none of his legendary strength. His father had told them stories of how Robert had fought with a warhammer that he could swing with one hand, whilst Ned struggled to lift it with two.

"You must be Robb," he heard Robert say, Robb smiled and nodded. Robert may not have been what Robb had imagined, but he was very likeable from what Robb had seen so far.

One by one Robert greeted the Starks. He complimented Sansa on her beauty and said she'd be a great lady one day, which had her blushing. The man, rather than be offended, smiled wildly at Arya's wildness and rude, snappish response to his request for her name. He asked Bran to show him his muscles, which the young boy proudly did and was rewarded by the King saying that he'd be a knight one day. He reached Torrehn next, who was wearing the same facial expression as Roose, which many people found eerily similar. Robert however laughed it off.

"So your Roose's new ward, are you?" he grinned "I can see why he'd like you. Tywin Lannister would too, most like," Torrehn seemed a little shocked, but was obviously proud that the King thought that a man like Tywin would like him.

Finally, at the end of the line, he reached the Redcloaks. Like with Ned, he greeted Beric warmly, pulling him also into an embrace.

"Beric! It's good to see you!" Robert exclaimed.

"You as well, your grace," Beric replied.

"I'll have none of that 'Your Grace' nonsense, you're an old friend, and there's no need for it," Robert said, grinning all the while, with Beric returning the gesture. Then Robert moved on to the man everyone had been dreading. Adam Redcloak still had sweat covering his face, as he had been determinedly training with a spear and dagger combination he'd recently discovered in the practice yard before he had joined them to greet the king.

Unlike every Redcloak before him, Adam had not inherited the coal black hair or brown eyes of his family. Instead, his hair shared the Stark traits more. Beric and Adam's great-grandmother had been a Stark, so it just seemed the Stark features had taken a while to come out in the Redcloak family. It was his eyes which were a light shade of violet, that caused worry. A Targaryen trait. No one was sure where this trait had come from, as the Redcloaks were never related to the Targaryens, not even distantly. Rumors were given more fuel by the fact that Ned Stark's bastard's hair was closer in colour to that of the Redcloaks than to the Stark's, darkening from very dark brown to black in recent years. They were worried because they had no idea how Robert would react to Adam's eye colour.

Robb knew there was something different about Adam. Something that had Ned constantly worried. Robb had once caught his father staring in concern at Adam and muttering the name Lyanna under his breath. Lyanna was Robb's aunt, and the heir to the North was unsure as to what Adam had to do with her. Robb supposed that his friend reminded his father of the sister he'd lost. Beric had seemed to see a resemblance too, though the older Redcloak had seemed to shake it off.

Apparently they had worried for nothing, because either Robert didn't even notice or he ignored it. Instead, after the queen and her younger children had made their introductions, he asked Ned to take him to the crypts to pay his respects to the dead.

"We've traveled for weeks, my love, surely the dead can wait?" Cersei objected. She was supposedly the most beautiful woman in Westeros, and Robb agreed. Looking across he could tell that Beric didn't. Many people found it hard to read the Redcloaks, but to the Stark's it was easier than reading a story book. Beric was unimpressed. But then, he had been unimpressed with anyone ever since he had met Wylla Manderly. That had been an interesting day and this was nothing new.

Robert shot his wife a look which silenced her "Ned?" Robb's father nodded and led the way, with Beric loyally by his side as always

After the king left, the people of Winterfell dispersed back to their daily activities. The queen and her children began to make their way inside, following Lady Catelyn to the chambers that had been prepared for them. Robb couldn't help but see the way Sansa was looking at the Prince as she walked beside him. Prince Joffrey was telling stories of how he'd bested his kingsguard (doubtful) and won many tourney's (Not against the Clegane's and Loras Tyrell you didn't) Robb scrunched his nose up in disgust. He looked to Arya who mimicked gagging, before loudly asking "Where's the Imp?"

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed in shock. It was all Robb could do not to burst out laughing, and he could tell that Adam and Jon were having the same difficulty.

The queen however turned to her twin and asked "Where is that wretched little brother of ours?" Jaime shrugged in response and walked off toward the winter town, presumably to find Tyrion Lannister.

Four of the remaining five kingsguard strode with the royal family. Arys Oakheart stayed behind. Robb couldn't help but notice Prince Tommen glare at Joffrey before joining Bran at the archery range. The young royal didn't try and shoot any arrows , but he talked amiably to Bran as the auburn haired boy trained. The prince was wearing a red doublet and black shirt, mixing the Baratheon and Lannister colors. Joffrey had shown which side of his heritage he took after by being decked in crimson clothing with gold patterns, whilst Myrcella wore a beautiful emerald green dress that matched her eyes. The queen and king had worn only the colors of their own families.

"Hello little brother," Robb looked over to where this came from. Roose Bolton had been conversing with Torrehn, arranging his return to the Dreadfort. After he had left with his men to rent a room at the inn in Winter-town; rooms hadn't been prepared for the Bolton's as their arrival had not been expected; Domeric and Torrehn had embraced each other as old friends though the older had to kneel in order to do so.

Robb glared at the man. The one that dared to claim Tor as a brother. Robb decided that he hated the Bolton heir.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Robb turned and saw his brother Jon, and his friend Adam stepping up to him.

"That could have gone worse,"Jon commented

"Don't speak so soon, Snow, we've still got the feast to go yet," Robb laughed

"No you've still got the feast, I don't. I just get to drink and eat. You have to deal with the royal family, Stark," Jon said, grinning though the humor never reached his disappointed brown eyes. Due to being a bastard, Robb's mother had forbidden Jon from eating at the head table. She had tried to do the same to the Redcloaks, citing that the Royal family would find it offensive, but his father steadfastly refused. He'd barely agreed to her demands about Jon.

Robb decided to change the subject away from Jon's parentage "Just don't let Robert get a good look at your eyes, Adam and we'll all be fine,"

"Us maybe, but I'm fairly certain that I saw Myrcella staring in your direction," Adam said, in a teasing tone

"Don't you have to walk her to the dais later, Robb?" Jon asked, seemingly innocent but this time the smile reached his eyes.

"You're a lucky man Stark, I have to walk my cousin up there. And you know how ugly he is," Adam said, not letting the jape go

"Do we have to call you Prince Robb, once you marry her that is?" This came from Jon

 _They aren't going to let this go_ , Robb thought to himself and sighing at the fact. It was true he had caught Myrcella looking his way and holding the stare longer than she should have otherwise, but it wasn't fair of Adam to be so taunting of it. He had seen Adam looking at certain someone that way a few times. He was half-tempted to bring that up now, but Jon would probably hang the Redcloak boy from a tower for it.

Instead he just let it drop "Say what you like, and call me whatever you want. I don't care,"

Adam grinned "Why thank you, Gladys"

Now Robb was slightly tempted to hang Adam. Only slightly, despite how many problems it would eventually solve.

They all turned as they heard their wolves howling from the kennel.

"Gods! What in seven hells was that!?" Ser Arys cried, grabbing the hilt of his longsword. They had all forgotten about he young white knight, but he was standing the edge of the group now,clearly slightly scared by the sound of the wolves. He had clearly heard the whole conversation.

Adam raised an eyebrow quizzically at him. _How exactly does he do that_ , Robb asked himself, not for the first time. He had seen that look before. It was a look that was both a threat, a question and a dare all in one, and despite many attempt to imitate it Robb had never been able to. Plus, he could raise one eyebrow without moving the other, a skill Robb was still working on.

Arys recognized the look and returned one exactly the same. Then he grinned and said "I won't tell anyone, don't worry My Lord," the last of which was clearly directed at Robb, who could feel himself going red.

"Good," Adam said, his face growing into a grin again. He glanced at Robb and Robb nodded, knowing that the slightly younger wanted permission. Robb had given up trying to break that habit. At least it was more subtle now. "Want to go meet our wolves?"

"Why not?" was Arys' reply.

* * *

Additional Notes:

Where do you think I'm going with the Adam + Targ looks/Jon+Redcloak looks? who does Adam have feelings for? Will Robb ever feel the same towards Myrcella? Let me know what you think in a review. You know you want to.

Anyways, cya later! Yozza Out!


	4. Beric II

**AN**

 **Disclaimer: The overall plot line, characters (excluding my O/C's- Redcloaks and Greycloaks) and setting belong to George R.R. Martin.**

* * *

Beric

Beric stood overlooking the training yard of Winterfell. In the hours that had passed since the Kings arrival, the royal family and their courtiers had settled into their rooms at Winterfell. Robb stood in one corner working on his swordsmanship against a training dummy. The Stark and Bolton men stood on the one side of the yard near him with the northmen from other houses that had recently arrived, while the southerners were lined up opposite. Prince Joffrey was stood like a peacock, chest puffed out and head held high depsite the red rimmed eyes that gave away the tears he let spill when Robb got a vicious hit against the Royal brat's arm. The boy was surrounded by the Kings squires; Lancel and Tyrek Lannister, cousins to the Queen. Tyrek wasn't too bad, for a Lannister that is. He was the son of Tygett Lannister who died of an illness shortly before the Greyjoy rebellion. Lancel was as bad as Cersei or Jaime, Beric had found. The eldest son of Kevan Lannister, Tywin's only remaining brother, the boy was almost as vain as Joffrey, as foolish as the Queen, and as weak-willed as the Kingslayer.

Sandor Clegane was decked out in his black armour. The hound's helm had been removed but the huge steel blade remained on his back.

Bran and Tommen were in the middle. Both boys were whacking each other with wooden practice swords, though they were so thickly padded that Beric doubted they could even feel the blows. There was some amount of skill being shown in the way Bran handled his sword; though the boy would never be a legendary warrior he would make a skilled opponent. Tommen, though, was barely adaquete despite being trained by all seven kingsguard, Ser Aron Santagar and whoever else Robert hired to tutor his sons.

Although, Beric acknowledged that Tommen, it seemed, had thrown everything into his training and just not been able to hone his skill beyond the basic's: how to hold a sword, jab, swing and block. Still, his footwork was as good, if not slighly better, than Bran's even in the top heavy armour. Joffrey on the other hand had absolutely no concept of swordplay. He couldn't grip his sword properly nor could he fight with it.

Eventually, Bran was able to knock Tommen to the ground causing one half of the assembled crowd to cheer. Beric glanced at the boy's physique. Tommen would likely never be better than average with a sword, but Beric wondered if he might have fared better without the armour. Bran's hits would have hurt more, aye, but Tommen looked like someone who could be better at speed based fighting, like Adam, or maybe archery.

"That's enough boys," Rodik Cassel called out gruffly. The two boys made their way to opposite ends of the yard and pulled off their padding. "Robb, Prince Joffrey; ready to go another bout?"

Robb turned "Always," he said determidely.

Joffrey though sneered and contempuously said "This is a game for children, Ser. I grow tired of swatting at Starks with play swords,"

"You got more swats than you gave Joff," Robb challenged "Scared?"

"Perhaps he should take up embroidery with the other girls. We all know he is one," Adam joked. The men laughed and even some Baratheon guards accidently let amused snorts from their mouth, before glancing around to make sure no one had seen.

"Enough," Rodrik barked "What would you suggest, my Prince?"

"Live steel,"

"No," the old Ser said sternly and immediately, his tone making it clear that there would be no changing his mind.

Clegane stepped forward, and Beric gripped Wolf-Sworn in case the man tried anything. Beric doubted that he would fare well against the larger man alone; he was not as natural with a blade and his appointment to the position 'Sword of the Wolf' had been for lack of alternate options at the time; but he wanted to make sure that the Hound knew not to draw his blade if he wished to leave without any new wounds.

"Who are you to deny the Prince?"

"Master-at-Arms of Winterfall. I know not how things are done in the Red Keep, but here live steel is not used until both participants are ready," Rodrik retorted, his face starting to redden at the first hints of anger.

"I killed my first man at twelve. You can be sure it wasn't with a blunted blade,"

"Let me do it. I know I can win," Robb begged "I'm a man grown. I'm ready,"

"It's not you I don't have faith in. If you want live steel, spar with Jon, Adam or Beric. The Prince is one the most appalling highborn swordsmen I've ever seen!" Rodrik actually seemed offended that someone with so little skill was allowed in his yard.

"You're just jealous. You savage northerners have nothing on my family's men," Joffrey sneered.

"Jealous?" Rodrik barked out a laugh "Hah! Well I'll admit to being jealous aye. I've seen Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark fight. Howland Reed, GreatJon Umber, Barristan Selmy and Prince Rhaegar. I've seen four generations of Redcloaks pass through Winterfell; though I was only a lad back in old Lord Jorah's day. I'd be a fool not to be jealous of such talent. But you, boy, are not among those names,"

And with that, Joffrey crept back to his own entourage with his tail between his legs.

Hours later, the Royal family had met with the Starks outside the door to Winterfells main hall.

"Is everyone ready?" Lord Stark asked.

The castle had never been so crowded as it was now that the King was here. His original retinue would have been large enough to crowd Winterfell, not to mention all the others that joined them along the way that Ser Preston told him about. Right now, Beric would happily have joined the watch if only for peace and quiet. But he knew if he did, Adam would ride north, kill him, kill Domeric and then just because he may as well, go south and kill Maric. No laws against kin-slaying would stop him. If Beric left, he would have no family anyway, so in his mind what would the difference be.

Several times now he had tried to raise his concerns about Adam to Ned, as well as those that Robb, Bran, Arya and Jon had approached him with regarding Torrehn, but every time he had been interrupted. The first had been in the Godswood, when Catelyn had stopped him by news of Jon Arryn. The second had been in the crypts beneath Winterfell. This time Robert had interrupted by 'honoring' Ned with the offer to wed Sansa to Joffrey, Ned to become the new hand-of-the-king, and Beric to be granted an advisory seat on the council. That had shocked him into silence. Ned would go south and Beric would go with him. That would make Adam's problems even worse.

He was jolted from his thoughts by Robb.

"Beric, where is your cousin? He was meant to be here," Robb asked him. He could hear Catelyn questioning Ned on the same thing but about their errant daughter, Arya, rather than Adam. Arya was still in trouble for escaping her sewing lessons to watch the boys train.

Beric spoke loud enough that they both heard his response "They're in the Godswood. They said they'd be here in time," he admitted guiltily. Adam had told him where they'd be in case they were late, but he didn't like admitting this to Catelyn.

Cersei looked at him coldly and asked "Just what would they be doing in the Godswood together when they have a feast to attend to?" hinting at something that by the looks of Robb's face, he didn't want to think about

"Dancing," Beric said flatly, trying to sound convincing. Robb started laughing and soon Bran was too. Ned remained mostly expressionless, but his eyes showed that he found it amusing. They all knew that 'dancing' when it came from Arya or Adam, meant sword fighting.

Cersei had a look of distaste, she looked to Ned Stark "You should keep your daughter away from people like these Redcloak's. They are a bastard line after all,"

Despite the truth behind these words, they still hurt. He wanted to order Shadow on her but that would be breaking guest rights. So he didn't. Robert looked set to do the job for him however.

The Queen was saved from her untimely death when Vex bounded towards the assembled group and jumped up on Tommen, who had been quietly talking to Bran, pinning him to the ground. The Queen paled and moved towards her son, but stopped short when she realized he was laughing. She frowned, whilst Robert and Myrcella chuckled between them. The two younger children had become fond of the direwolves.

It was at that moment, as Beric knew it would be, that Arya and Adam came into view, both covered dirt, the latter with a bloody nose, whilst the former wore a massive grin.

"Arya, you're late," Ned Stark said

"Well, I'm here now so lets go," she said impatiently,as though everyone else was late and she was on time.

Catelyn was giving Adam a lecture about how it wasn't proper for Arya to be learning swordplay. He seemed to be holding his own with sound arguments. Sansa blushing madly looking at Joffrey, ever acting ever so gallant. Then she turned and noticed Arya, or more accurately, the state of her clothing.

"Arya! You can't wear those, they're filthy!" she exclaimed, then stood straighter and nodded like she had just thought of the perfect solution. Knowing Sansa, it wouldn't be something Arya would like. It wasn't.

"Go change into a dress, then I'll help you..."

"I don't have to wear a dress, I'm fine with what I've got on!" Arya yelled

Sansa seemed to be shocked and appalled by Arya's behavior, especially in front of Royal guests. Cersei looked on at the small Stark girl with contempt, just another thing Beric hated her for. She was so arrogant thinking herself untouchable, and irresistible. Most men would agree. Beric didn't he loved only one other. And the Lannisters were most definitely not untouchable. _If you're untouchable, then why didn't you choose a side in the rebellion until it was clear who would win,_ if Tywin was untouchable, then he wouldn't have had any reason to fear choosing the wrong side. Unfortunately, only northerners saw this, and as such everyone bowed and sucked up to the Lannisters. Though the Riverlords and Knights of the Vale also had a heavy dislike of the man as well, neither really had the balls to stand up to him.

Joffrey had a sneer on his face. Catelyn looked set to give Arya the lecture of her short life, when the room echoed with Roberts booming laughter, taking everyone by surprise, not least Cersei and Catelyn.

Robert placed a hand on Ned's shoulder "She's got the wolf-blood Ned, no point trying to tame her. You'd have as much luck as you would have had with Lyanna," he laughed but by the end he looked sad and remorseful, the smile not reaching his eyes.

Triumphant, Arya stuck out her tongue at Sansa and took her place. Beric heard a chuckle behind turned and saw his cousin pulling on his sword belt, a mischievous look in his eye. Beric's armour was made up of a mail hauberk, underneath a set of boiled leather and a steel breastplate with the carving of a wolf on the chest plate, plus gauntlets. Beric's shoulder guards depicted a snarling direwolf. Adam's 'armour' could hardly be counted as such. He wore a long red leather coat that fell to his knee's with a black direwolf embroidered onto the lapel of his left breast. Beneath his coat, Adam was wearing a black shirt and neat breeches, sturdy black boots at calf height completing the look. Beric had his Wolf-Sworn strapped to his back, whilst Adam wore a longsword at his side. He had wiped most of the blood of his face by this point. Beric told himself to ask how he got it later on.

Almost silently, Torrehn slipped into place next to Bran, startling the older twin.

Then it began.

The doors opened and they entered the hall. Robert and Catelyn went first, heading for the dais. They reached their seats, Robert sat in the middle seat, and Cat two spaces to his right. Ned and Cersei followed soon after, the former clearly uncomfortable with being so close to the queen. Who wouldn't be? Ned sat down on Roberts left and Cersei in the empty space between Robert and Catelyn. Torrehn, Bran and Tommen were next to make the trek through the long hall, though they stopped at the table that had been set up in front of the dais for the Stark and Baratheon children plus one Redcloak child. Rickon followed them quickly, but stopped half-way to go and visit his half-brother and Jon had to urge him on. Then it was Beric's turn. Originally he had been meant to walk last with Adam, but last minute arrangements had been made to make sure Arya behaved herself. And so Beric was the one to walk beside her.

As he stepped out into the hall, he got his first look at just how many people there were. At the foot of the dais, stood the Kingsguard. Meryn Trant, Mandon Moore, Boros Blount, Arys Oakheart and Preston Greenfield. _A shame Ser Barristan is not here, he would have made good company._ The entire Winterfell household was here, plus Lannister and Baratheon soldiers, knights, squires singers and fools. Serving girls were also quite plentiful. Beric spotted Vayon Poole and his daughter Jeyne. Jory Cassel and his uncle Ser Rodrik sat with the guards: Heward, Will, Tomard, Desmond and Porther were the only ones he could place a name to before they had passed.

Roose Bolton and his small guard sat on the table closet to the dais, as position of great honor. By being given such a seat, Lord Stark was declaring a friendship between the House of Bolton and the House of Stark. Except for one problem: They weren't meant to be sitting there. Torrehn had messed around with the seating arrangements to show the ties between the two families. Roose appreciated it, many other lords; often favored above the Bolton's; would be less so.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Arya pulling faces, trying to make him laugh, trying to make him look like a fool. She wasn't successful in her self given mission because they reached the dais before he couldn't hold it any longer. He watched Arya take her seat, before taking his own on the left of Ned Stark.

Once seated, he watched the remainder of the children head towards the Dais. Robb and Myrcella looked like a good couple together. Myrcella kept on glancing up at Robb, with a timid smile on his face. Only the fact that the corners of Robb's mouth curled upwards gave any indication that he was aware of these looks. Adam, Theon and Jon were never going to forget this. Maybe they'd already begun with the teasing.

Next came Joffrey and Sansa. Beric hated Joffrey. The boy acted so smug and superior to everyone. He acted the same way as his mother. He showed no affection to his siblings as the Starks did. Tommen and Myrcella were both sweet children, and the fact that Joffrey treated them like they were beneath him made Beric burn with rage. Mainly because that was what Adam often thought of himself as. Beneath the rest of them. It had first come to notice when Maric left for Dragonstone and Beric for the wall. It had made him feel abandoned. And with Beric performing his duties as Sword of the Wolf, it had eventually made him feel worse than abandoned; it made him feel unwanted.

 _I'll talk with Ned about it, maybe with Robert as well. Together we may be able to help him,_ he thought to himself

And coincidentally, there was Adam, walking beside Theon, whose gaze constantly lingered on various serving girls with hunger in his eyes. Adam had no interest in them. He kept his eyes straight ahead of him. He had once sworn after a particularly bad example of Jon's poor treatment that he would never, ever sire a bastard. He had kept his word by not lying with anyone.

They reached the table and sat with the Stark and Baratheon children. Adam leaned back in his chair and gazed enviously towards the tables were the soldiers and squires were sitting. _That's were he wants to be. As soon as the feast gets going and he thinks he can get away with it, that's were he_ will _b_ e.

Beric found himself lost in his thoughts once again, a rather recurring event in recent weeks ever since he had learned just how deep Adam's feeling of resentment went. He and Adam had had a fierce argument, in which he'd accused Beric (as well as Dom and Maric) of being worse to him than Catelyn was to Jon. 'At least she doesn't hide her dislike behind excuses like you do!' had been his exact words. When Beric had failed to understand, Adam had taken the fight to blows. No one else ever found out the reason behind the fight. Afterward, Adam had denied meaning anything he had said, stating that all he said he said out of frustration. But having watched him closely for a while, Beric had realized the truth. Adam had truly believed every angry word and fist he gave to Beric that day

So lost in his thought was he that he almost didn't notice the last two people, the queens brother, striding towards them. The kingslayer, looking so fine in his gleaming, golden armour with a smug look on his face, one so similar to that of Joffrey and Cersei's they were almost identical. _Would you look so smug if I put you in Aerys' position Kingslayer?_ he thought to himself. Jaime sat down next to Catelyn, leaving the space to Berics left empty. He smiled as Tyrion Lannister sat in the seat. Of all the Lannisters, Beric only liked Tyrion. He was descent company, with good jokes and interesting stories. It helped that he hated Tywin at least as much as Beric did.

The only empty space on the dais now was on Jaime's right. Ben Stark would take that when he arrived.

Then Robert stood, and the feast began.

* * *

So a few chapters ago, there was mention of the other direwolves not liking Winter (Torrhen's direwolf) that much. Why do you think that is? Where do you think that'll go?

Please review, cya next time! Yozza Out!


	5. Domeric I

**AN**

 **Disclaimer: The overall plot line, characters (excluding my O/C's- Redcloaks and Greycloaks) and setting belong to George R.R. Martin.**

* * *

Domeric

The cold wind felt warm to Domeric Redcloak, who had spent the last ten years of his life on the wall.

 _This may as well be Dorne, given how cold it was on that bloody block of ice,_ he thought to himself as he and Benjen Stark rode into Winterfell. The castle was both quiet and noisy at the same time. Domeric couldn't make his mind up. The courtyard and castle itself were all but deserted, and it was eerily quiet, except for the low sounds of laughter and music flowing out from the great hall. The silence of the yard itself was oppressing and the tension seemed thick enough that Domeric could hack it to pieces with his axe (which was his typical response to any given situation, aptly showing the sort of attitude the second-youngest of the surviving Redcloak's had)

The sound from the hall was so quiet, Domeric didn't even hear it at first. But he knew for a fact that if it could be heard through the castle walls it must be very loud. They soon found out how loud. They walked into the hall and Domeric was near deafened. The musicians seemed to be getting louder by the minute, as did the laughter and bawdy jest's of the men as though they were in competition with each other. He could already feel sweat beginning roll down his face.

He leaned in close to Benjen and said "This place makes me wish I was at the wall," The youngest of Ned Stark's siblings (and only living one) chuckled slightly. Twelve years previous, after Balon Greyjoys failed rebellion, Domeric had been exiled to the wall for trying to kill Theon, the new ward of Winterfell. He hated it at castle Black. The man openly expressing a desire to be there (even if only in jest) was a good way of showing his discomfort at the atmosphere in the room. It was also a marked improvement from the attitude the younger of the two Rangers usually had towards the Wall. Domeric mentally cursed Benjen for knowing him well enough to work all that out from one gods be damned jape.

Domeric surveyed the carnage in front of him. His eyes first fell to rest upon the dais. He saw Lord Eddard, stoic as always and Catelyn Stark, one of the most beautiful women he had met, though he had no interest in her and wouldn't have even had he not forsworn the company of women. He then saw someone so attractive even someone who took their vows as seriously as he did would begin to doubt themselves. Cersei Lannister.

He looked at the others in their company. The Imp and Jaime Lannister sat at opposite ends of the table, whilst a huge fat man sat in the center. The man could only be King Robert, as it was obvious none of the others were. Finally he saw one of two faces he had wished to see for a long time. Beric, sat on Ned's left. Domeric wanted to go talk to him, but he had more pressing concerns. Beric had sent a raven to tell him about the problems he and Adam were having. Domeric didn't know the details, but he knew that if Beric had written to _him_ for advice of all people then it must be bad. He wasn't exactly the epitome of family love.

He scanned the hall, eyes flickering over the table where the children sat. Theon, Robb, Bran, Arya and two young blonde children, who Dom presumed were Tommen and Myrcella Baratheon, were all talking with one another. Bran and Tommen seemed comfortable with each other, apparently making fast friends. The four younger children had a look of hero worship in their eyes as they listened to Theon and Robb. There was another boy with them, with light brown hair and light blue eyes. He was wearing a pink emblem on his surcoat. From the distance he was at, he couldn't make out the sigil but Domeric presumed that it was the heir to the Dreadfort, a boy who shared he shared a name with: Domeric. The young Lordling seemed to be getting on with Robb and the distrustful glances he was sending Theon amused Domeric greatly. The other must-be-Baratheon was talking keenly with Sansa Stark, both wearing expressions that the Black Brother didn't like. Rickon had his head resting on the table.

Domeric was shocked at the sight of Torrehn Stark sitting with Roose Bolton, seemingly invested in conversation with the pale Lord and his men. He had of course heard about Torrehn's warding, and couldn't help but wonder what in all the gods of fire and fuck Ned was thinking by sending his son to one of the most cruel, cold, sadistic and potentially disloyal bannermen he had.

He was nudged by Benjen, who then pointed to a table seating numerous squires, a few of the Winterfell guard (namely Arthur and Beron Reed), Sandor Clegane, Jon Snow and, finally, Adam Redcloak. The two Nights Watchmen strode quickly towards the table, Domeric grabbing a cup of wine from a serving girl on his way, which he drained quickly due to the heat.

They reached the table, but Domeric couldn't greet his brother straight away, as he was engaged in a drinking game with the Hound. The older of the remaining Redcloak brothers was disappointed at that, but proud for his brother being able to match Clegane drink for drink, despite the older man being twice the young Redcloak boys size and age. If rumor had it true then both men had had a lot of experience in drinking; Clegane for leisure and Adam to drown his problems in. Looking up at the Dais, Beric had been all but drunk under the table playing the same game with Tyrion Lannister. Domeric smiled; Beric never could handle his ale very well.

"Haven't you had enough of that?" Benjen asked teasingly

Jon looked around, and his eyes lit up when they landed on his uncle "Uncle Benjen! Gods its good to see you,"

"What are you doing down here, Jon? You didn't upset Cat did you?"

"No. She felt our guests might find it offensive to have a bastard sit among them,"

"Ah," Benjen said, clearly uncomfortable. Neither man liked Jon being treated like that, but in this case there was at least a good reason. Cersei Lannister would have made the Seven Hells preferable had Jon been granted a seat among her children.

"Domeric, good to see you!" Jon exclaimed, catching sight of him; shaking of his hurt at being pushed to one side by Catelyn; pulling him into a brotherly embrace. _Why do I never get this affection from my actual brother,_ he asked himself, though he knew the answer.

"You too Jon,"Domeric replied, then feeling something brush past his leg. He looked down and saw a white albino direwolf, with red eyes.

Domeric instantly jumped back. Every time he had ever seen a direwolf before was from a distance, but he knew they were dangerous. He'd never seen one as a pet before.

Jon smiled and told them the story of how they found the pups. They then spoke aimlessly for a while, until Jon brought up the fact that he was worried about Adam. Domeric had in turn informed him that both he and Beric felt the same. Then Benjen returned and Jon made his desire to join the watch clear. Benjen tried to dissuade him by telling him that he wasn't ready. Jon said he was, and Domeric agreed with him, but knew that the watch wasn't the right place for Jon to be. There was a reason he was there. There was a reason most black-brothers were Benjen made the mistake of telling Jon to father some bastards of his own first. That only made Jon angry and caused him to leave the hall.

"You could have just told him the truth about the watch," Domeric said shaking his head at Ben's lame attempt at fooling Jon.

"That would crush his respect for the watch. You thought the same way as him as a boy, and do you remember how crushed you were when he realized that the order was nothing more than a rabble of criminals?"

Domeric only shrugged

Behind him he heard cheering. He spun round to see Clegane and Adam finish their game at a draw. Benjen whispered to him "I'm going to go save my brother from Jaime Lannister. Good luck," before walking off in the direction Ned Stark had gone.

"Do you swing that sword of yours as well as you handle your mead, Hound?" Adam asked, a challenge creeping into his voice.

"Just as well," the big man said back

"Doubt it," Adam shot back as Clegane began to move on to talk to some soldiers. He stopped abruptly and spun on his heel to face the young boy who had dared challenge him "But I suppose we can find out tomorrow, in practice."

"A duel?," he grunted and snorted "Very well little man. Noon, with live steel. We fight until the other yields!"

"You're on, hound. Just two drunk men, swinging swords at one another. What could be better?" Adam answered, grinning cheekily.

Clegane laughed and walked of. When Adam turned and faced Domeric, his expression darkened. Domeric looked at the man who had once been his young brother. He has leaned out and was now a little more built in his shoulder's and chest. His hands were rough and calloused with Domeric could see faint muscles in his arms. While no one would accuse him of being built or broad, he was no longer the small waif of a boy he'd been when the brothers had last seen each other, who'd looked like a strong wind could blow him from one end of the yard to the other with ease. His face was more angular and somewhat aristocratic, as opposed to his once soft, innocent looking boyish features. He was no longer the small, scrawny boy he had been when Domeric had last seen him, during a visit to Winterfell six years ago.

"Dom," the purple eyed man said coldly, like he wanted nothing more than to leave right then and there.

"It's nice to see you little brother," the black brother said. He reached out to ruffle the younger boys hair, but he pulled away before they had barely even touched.

"Don't," he said, sounding like he was trying to remain calm and in control "Don't touch me, and don't..." his voice broke momentarily, like he didn't want to say the next words, but knew he had to "...and don't call me little brother. You lost that right."

With that, he walked away. Domeric's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but he didn't blame Adam. He placed the blame where he knew it belonged; on himself. He decided to go talk to Beric and the Starks. It might help quench the regret Domeric felt flooding his body.

"Well, Domeric Redcloak, nice to see you. Come to visit at last, have you, black brother?"

 _Black Brother_ , he mused. Yes. Black was the perfect word to describe how good a brother he was.

* * *

Additional notes

So, we meet Domeric Redcloak for the first time. Did you like him? Yes? No? Maybe? Review and let me know

Secondly, who would you like to see as a PoV in the next few chapters. Again, review and let me know. Cya 'round! Yozza Out!


	6. Adoption

**Up For Adoption**

 **Unfortunately, I kinda lost my passion for this story when my progress got deleted in a computer wipe and the backups didn't work. I left it for a while but I've never been able to motivate myself to redo it all. With that in mind, I am putting this story up for adoption. First person who PM's me for it will be allowed to continue the story in whatever way they wish; I will of course tell this person where I had envisioned the story lines going but whether they choose to go along with them will be up to that person.  
**

 **I will say this though. If you want to pick up the story; PM me. I don't mind what you do with it after that. But I will not be happy if I find out someone took my story and used it without permission.  
**

 **I think that covers everything for now. Yozza out.**


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